Part 2 (1/2)

”I've a piece of news for you,” said Susan, ”and you are not going to have one bite of breakfast until I've told you. There is a little boy coming to live next door, and his name is Philip Vane. We are going to play together and be friends. Aren't you glad?”

Old Frizzly, so named because her feathers grew the wrong way, could no longer restrain her impatience at this delay of her meal. She uttered an extra loud squawk and flapped her wings wrathfully. But Susan accepted it as an answer to her question.

”Old Frizzly is the only one of you with any manners at all,” said she reprovingly. ”You are greedy, and you are rude, and you don't care a bit whether I have any one to play with or not.”

And, hastily emptying her bowl, Susan departed to station herself upon the low stone wall that separated the Tallman house from her own. She saw heads pa.s.s and repa.s.s the open windows, sounds of hammering floated out upon the sweet spring air, rugs were vigorously shaken on the little back porch. The butcher's cart rumbled noisily past on the main road, and a slim lady, with fair hair and a long blue ap.r.o.n, stepped out on the porch and, shading her eyes with her hand, gazed down the driveway as if she were expecting some one.

But, in spite of these interesting sights and sounds, Susan felt disappointed, for not a single peep did she have of the new little boy.

”Did Miss Liza say there was a little boy, Grandmother?” asked Susan, coming into the house at dinner-time so low in her mind that she dragged patient Flippy along by one arm, her limp feet trailing on the ground behind her.

”Why, yes,” answered Grandmother, gazing into the oven at a pan of nicely browned biscuit. ”I told you yesterday what she said, Susan. 'A little boy about the age of your Susan,' said she. Now run to the door for me and see whether Grandfather is coming. I want him to carry over this plate of biscuit to Mrs. Vane to show ourselves neighborly, and you shall go along with him if you like.”

Susan needed no second invitation. She skipped ahead of Grandfather as they went through the low place made in the stone wall for Grandmother and Miss Tallman to step through easily. But when they reached the doorway, and Mrs. Vane stood before them, she shyly hid behind Grandfather's great leather boots.

She listened to the grown-up talk with ears wide open for some mention of a person her own age, but it was not until Grandfather turned to go that she felt bold enough to slip her hand in his and give it a little squeeze as if to remind him why she had come.

”Oh, yes,” said Grandfather, understanding the squeeze perfectly and so proving himself to Susan the wisest man in the world. ”This is my little granddaughter Susan, Mrs. Vane. She was very much interested in a rocking-horse that fell from one of your vans yesterday.”

”That was Phil's rocking-horse,” said Mrs. Vane, smiling kindly down into Susan's big black eyes, at this moment half friendly and half shy.

”Philip is my little boy, and he will be so glad of a next-door neighbor. He has had no one to play with in the city, and he has been very ill, too, but I know he will enjoy himself here where he can run and shout as much as he likes, and I'm sure he will soon be well, now that he can play out in this good sun and air.”

Susan looked all about her in search of a little boy running and shouting as much as he liked, but Phil's mother met her glance with a shake of the head.

”No, he isn't here yet,” said she. ”But I expect him any minute. His father is going to bring him up from the city this morning.”

Filled with the hope of seeing Phil arrive, Susan hurried through her dinner, but as she left the house and started toward the garden wall, the sight of Snuff limping dismally along on three legs drove all other thoughts from her mind.

”Grandfather, Grandfather, Snuffy's hurt,” she called, and, putting her arms around her s.h.a.ggy playfellow, she tried to help him up the back steps.

Snuff whimpered a little to gain sympathy, but he bore the pain without flinching when Grandfather gently pulled the cruel splinter from his foot, and washed and bound up the wound. Susan, remembering Snuff's sweet tooth, begged a bowl of custard from Grandmother, and she was enjoying Snuff's pleasure in the treat when a voice fell upon her ears.

”I'm here,” said the voice. ”I've come. I'm Phil.”

Susan sprang to her feet and faced the thinnest little boy she had ever seen.

”He's as thin as a bone,” thought she, borrowing an expression from Grandmother.

But the thin little face owned a pair of honest blue eyes, and a smile so wide that you couldn't help smiling back even if you happened to be feeling very cross. And, as Susan didn't feel cross in the least, you may imagine how broadly she smiled upon her new neighbor.

”Is this your dog?” asked Phil, eyeing Snuff's bandage with respectful interest. ”I'm going to have a dog and a cat and maybe some hens and chickens, too.”

Susan related Snuff's accident, and the invalid, feeling all eyes upon him, dropped his head heavily to the ground with a deep sigh and a mournful thud of his tail. Then he opened one eye to see the effect upon his audience.

Susan and Phil broke into laughter at such sly tricks, and Snuff, delighted with his success, beat his tail violently upon the piazza floor.

”I brought over my Noah's Ark,” announced Phil, taking from under his arm the gayly painted little house upon which Susan's eyes had been fixed from the first. ”We'll play, if you like.”

And Susan and Phil, with the ease of old friends, proceeded to marshal the strange little toy animals in line, two by two, behind Mr. and Mrs.

Noah and their stiff and stolid family.